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Thursday, July 30, 2015

Gus, Fighting for Jesus

Last night while trying to get the boys bathed and into bed, Gus threw a fit. He was in the bathroom using the potty and Frank checked on him a couple of times--"Gus, are you done? Are you ready to get in the bathtub?" and "Gus, it's your turn in the bath!" Both were met with screams of "I NEED PRIVACY!!" 

When he finally emerged, he was crying and screaming: 

"Why did Daddy keep checking on me?!! Why wouldn't Daddy leave me alone? I wanted privacy!!" 

And then he said one of the best things ever: 


How could we be expected to keep straight faces after that? We couldn't. So through a crooked smile I said, "Of course Daddy loves Jesus." And then Frank crouched down to Gus' level as he said, "I totally love Jesus!" while trying not to laugh. 

Later, during another fit over teeth brushing (he was tired from a long day of suburban summer activities) he again questioned Frank's commitment to the Son of God: 


To that, we just said, "Go to bed." 

And then Frank had to go to confession. "Forgive me father, for I have sinned. I did not respect my 4-year-old's wishes for privacy and I told him he couldn't brush his teeth with his magic timer app. So I guess that means I don't love Jesus--because I understand from my four year old that He is really into privacy and iPads." 

Sunday, July 26, 2015

Hairy Scary

2015--the year my hair broke. I hate to blame my hair stylist because she really is a lovely person. And I do enjoy our chats. But I think she may be the one who broke my hair. See, soon after I went in for a cut/color in January, my hair started doing funky things. Like, if I put it in a pony tail, these pieces would all stick up. So I started wearing a headband with pony tails--all the time.

Then I noticed that, even when my hair was down, there were all these wispy hairs…I thought it was just new growth. But then I realized it was like a whole section of hair that was shorter on the top of my head. Like think about this guy from the Three Stooges:

That is how that one section of my hair looks. The difference is I have longer hair under it. As Thea put it, it looks like I have hair extensions--bad hair extensions. I showed it to my friend's mom who used to be a hair stylist and she said what I feared--that my hair dresser had probably pulled the foils out too hard when coloring my hair and broke my hair. So it's not new growth. It's broken hair. 

The worst is right in front. It looks like I cut bangs. But I would never cut bangs because I know the heartache of growing them out.  I am going through that heartache now but I didn't cut bangs; I broke bangs! Look what happens when I wear sunglasses: 

And when I straighten a piece from the broken section!

And when I just leave it!

I've resorted to putting a bobby pin in this random place to hold back the broken hair. 

Now all of these are first world problems, I know. I can manage. I can gel it and bobby pin it and wear a big sombrero if necessary. But here's the part where it gets really, really freaky.


That's my hair, y'all! My broken, Three Stooges, hair!

So for now I'm just doing a deep conditioning once a week, making do with my different hair accessories and staying far away from the hair stylist.

But my 20 year high school reunion is coming up! Frank, who is equally disturbed by my hair, says I'll have to find some hair help before that. But I don't think even Vidal Sassoon himself (if he were alive) or Jessica Simpson's awesome hair extensions could save me now. I will just have to wait it out--wait until my choppy, broken hair grows out.

And if it doesn't happen before my reunion, I'll just be the goofy girl in the sombrero.